The Pale Circus

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2026-08-20 14:34:02 -

The Pale Circus

The rain fell in sheets, cold and indifferent. I walked. My legs were not legs. They were stumps of ash and bone, wrapped in rags that stank of old blood and wet wool. I had no face. Or rather, I had a mask. It was made of clay. It smiled. It did not match the hollows inside. I walked toward the city of Ashwick. The city was a beast. It breathed smoke. It breathed fear. I was a thing that...

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